Seeing Red
by PenguinOfTroy
Summary: He sees red. And her narrowed eyes. And her scowling lips. And her flushed cheeks. But mostly just red... And it's fury that urges him to slam his lips against hers mid-sentence, swallowing her protest with his demanding kiss. - M for a reason. One-shot


_DISCLAIMER: "Castle" and all its wonderful characters are the property of ABC and Andrew Marlowe. Much as I enjoy playing with them, I unfortunately do not own them. Please don't sue me._

He sees red.

And her narrowed eyes. And her scowling lips. And her flushed cheeks. But mostly just red. The swirling haze of an anger he's never felt so strongly before. All-consuming rage.

They're shouting. At each other and at the universe for always finding another reason to keep them apart. But it's worse than any fight they've had before because there's so much more at stake. There's so much to lose this time. She's not gambling with just the potential of them anymore. And he's invested too much to let her get away with this.

She isn't going to stop. She said she would, but she's not. And after all they've shared – the confessions, the apologies, the reassurances, the loving embraces – her backtracking is like a knife in the gut, one that she twists with every insistence that her continued digging is somehow necessary.

"You said it didn't matter anymore!" He jabs.

"Well, it does!" She crosses. "I can't let it lie."

"Oh you can lie plenty."

She stops, stares at him incredulous, though he can't understand why.

"What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm saying it outright," he spits.

Her brows furrow and she launches into a reply, but he can't even hear her anymore, not over the furious rush of blood in his ears. It overcomes his senses. It drives him to reach for her when she throws up her hands and turns from him.

And it's fury that urges him to slam his lips against hers mid-sentence, swallowing her protest with his demanding kiss.

He gnashes his teeth against her lips and pulls her tight against him, trapping her against his chest as he ravishes her mouth. He makes no attempt to be gentle, instead he lets his anger fuel his movements, he lets the red haze urge him forward.

And she responds, attacking his mouth with equal fervor, equal anger until his lips are swollen, pulsing against hers.

His hands grip her, forcefully tugging the blouse from her waist band. He feels her skin, hot and smooth under his fingers as he jerks the fabric up her torso and roughly pulls it over her head.

Once her hands are free she grabs him by the back of the head and forces his lips back to hers.

He steers her towards the bed, using his body to force her retreat, until she falls back against the comforter. She starts to sit up, but he pushes her back down and wrenches the jeans and lace underwear from her hips in one stroke. The clothes join her blouse on the floor with a flurry, as does his shirt, which he jerks overhead before leaning above her on the bed.

Immediately he pins her down with his body. He sucks harshly at her neck intending to leave a mark, a reminder of his anger, his frustration, his loud and clear, "No."

She moans when he thrusts his hips into hers. Good. He wants her to feel him against her core and curse the clothing that still separates them. He wants her to beg for him, to want him more than she wants anything else. He wants to wipe everything else from her mind – no conspiracies, or snipers, or dragons. Just him. Only him.

When she pries her hands between them to fumble with the button on his pants, he lifts his body and allows her to push the khakis and boxers off his hips, dragging them the rest of the way, clumsy and desperate, with her feet.

Her fingers rake against his back as he bites his way down her neck and she whimpers when he finds the swell of her breast. He nips at her soft skin, urged on by the maddening scratch of her nails. The lace of her bra blocks his path, so he pulls it away, exposing her breast to the cool air.

He lets his mouth hover over her nipple, tickling her with his hot breath.

She arches her back in an attempt to bring him closer, but he inches back. He wants her to beg.

"Please," she gasps, tightening her grip on his shoulders. But he doesn't give in. Instead he blows a long, steady stream of air over her. She squirms beneath him in response.

"Castle," she half growls, half moans.

"Tell me you want me," he whispers, knowing that she's felt the words as well as heard them.

She growls unmistakably at that, because they both know what he's asking. It's so much more than just the words. Surrender. He's demanding surrender.

But the white flag doesn't come. Instead she grabs a fistful of hair and yanks his head up to hers. Her lips latch onto his in a brutal kiss.

They each battle for control, making weapons of their teeth, lips and tongues. He refuses to retreat, refuses to give in when there is so much on the line. But he's so intent on besting her in this war of mouths that he's blindsided by the sudden change in orientation as she expertly flips him onto his back and settles above him.

She pins his arms at his side while she straddles him just below his hips, so that his pulsing member rests at her stomach.

Then she scoots her body up ever so slowly, pinning his cock flat between his stomach and hers. All the while she drags his wrists up along the silk bedsheets until they are pinned above his shoulders, parallel to his ears.

Despite the surprising strength of her grip, he's certain he could fight his way out of her hold and regain the upper hand. But-

"Oh fuck," he gasps when she lifts up, changes the angle of her body and runs her dripping folds along the underside of his length. The heat and the moisture and the friction send shock waves through him and his hips buck involuntarily, but that just increases the pressure between them and drives him further into the haze of arousal.

Her arms brace her upper body just over his and her hair falls in a curtain around them setting her face in shadow, but he can still see the way she bites her lip in pleasure as she rubs herself against him. And that image alone jolts him with a thousand volts. His hair stands on end and his skin pulses with the frenzy of her skin against his, her sex against his.

"Tell me you want me," she throws his words back at him.

The writer narrows his eyes, not sure whether to take it as a taunt or as a challenge, and decides then and there to take back control. Because she's asking for more than words as well and he's not sure he can answer one way or the other.

So he shifts his weigh, rolls them back over and wastes no time sliding inside her with a sharp thrust.

She growls and bites at his ear, but he can hear her sigh with his movements as he finds a quick, hard rhythm.

"I want you, only you, all of you," he murmurs with each stroke and soon her sighs turn to gasps and her gasps turn to a mantra of _you_.

It spurs him on, even though he knows it's in the heat of the moment, even though he knows she could wake up the next morning and change her mind again. Her voice in his ear is enough to leave him teetering on the edge, and when she clenches around him, clutches at his back, cries out his name, he follows with a rush of fire, flames licking at his skin. He crashes over the edge with her and they tumble down together in a heap of burning limbs and hot breath.

For the first time they still, wrapped up in each other. And he allows himself a moment of silence, presses his nose into her hair and inhales. She smells like cherries and the scent melts his anger away for that brief moment. He lays with her unmoving in his arms.

But as she drifts to sleep, the dread of tomorrow blankets him. She isn't going to stop.

He rolls over, away from her, though he knows he shouldn't. You should never go to bed angry, he thinks, but he can't hold her like that, like everything is okay when it's not.

Just as his anger starts to simmer once more, he feels her hand slide softly, tentatively onto his hip. She pulls her body flush against his back, wraps her arm across his middle, and presses her nose against the back of his neck.

"I love you," she whispers, her breath washing over his nape.

And just like that he cools, the anger and frustration slipping away as he sighs and places his hand over hers. He closes his eyes and focuses on her words, her reassurance, lets them lead him away from the red.

"I know."

**A/N - For fooxoo, because she wanted angry sex. Thanks to trinxy, dave-ck and fooxoo for the beta.**

**Fight On and You'll Never Walk Alone**


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